mother o and 59 other people

The 60^th annual Tony Awards were held last night at Radio City and since Hugh Jackman is too busy doing who knows what (and who knows who), there was no host. Instead, Harry Connick Jr. opened the show singing some faggoty hodgepodge, and then some crazy bullshit rose out of the floor, and suddenly there were 60 ‘stars’ on stage.

I think the idea was that instead of 1 host, that there would be 60 – but it didn’t read like that. In honesty, it came off as if they were missing a host. But hey - at least we weren’t stuck with Harry Connick Jr. and his big bag of ugly bullshit. I just don’t get him – I mean, he’s supposedly all dreamy and whatever - but he’s so gawky and strange looking. You know how that saying goes – fell out of the ugly tree and hit every branch on the way down. Yeah, that’s him.

Ok, so the night started off pretty smoothly – with no surprises. The History Boys and The Drowsy Chaperone were up and down, up and down winning pretty much everything. As expected, Cynthia Nixon won Best Actress in a Play for Rabbit Hole.

So they call her name… she looks great, she’s having her Cinderella moment and all is right with the world. Then just as she’s getting out of her seat, she turns and kisses her boo – and the carriage turned back into a pumpkin… a big, hideous, orange pumpkin. I didn’t know what to do, but I knew that a moment like that needs to elicit some kind of crazy reaction - so I immediately started screaming at the top of my lungs. Friends, I give you - the hobbit aka Christine Marinoni, her lesbian love boo. BLOWN!

Ok, so this was the point at which shit started to go fucking haywire. Sweeney Todd, which seemed like an absolute lock for Best Revival of a Musical, lost out to The Pajama Game. Now, I’m sure The Pajamas are cute or whatever, but come on - Total Brokeback Mountain (aka Bareback Fuckhole) Oscar moment! There was an interesting article in the Times a few days ago, which predicted the possibility of this upset. And I quote –

"The work of these two directors – one radically interpreting a cannibalistic thriller, the other staying true to a bright 50's musical – could not set up more of a contrasting choice for best musical revival.

'Sweeny Todd,' right? An epic, the 'Hamlet' of musicals, daringly interpreted. Of course, sometimes people say they enjoy "Hamlet" in public but secretly they prefer Archie Comics. At least that was the case with several voters polled, who used the 'I think 'Sweeney' is going to win but I voted for' line. Possibly. So do not say you were not warned if the presenter says 'The Pajama Game.'"

Yeah, so in summary – The Pajama Game is for low brow retards… and evidently so is the Tony award for Best Revival of a Musical. Blown!

Just as much of an upset, was LaChanze (and her shiny horse hair weave) beating out Patti LuPone for Best Actress in a Musical - also known as ‘the bone that they threw to Mother O’.

I mean, I’ve seen both of these shows, and while I thoroughly enjoyed The Color Purple, there was nothing memorable about LaChanze’s performance. In fact, in my opinion she was seriously upstaged by a couple of her cast mates. Hell No!

In contrast, ain’t nothin’ gonna upstage Miss LuPone. She is unbelievable as Mrs. Lovett in Sweeney Todd, and she was absolutely robbed. But I guess she already has one and it’s good that Mother O won something. Had she come up empty handed, you know Gayle would have received a serious beat down!

Seriously though – What the fuck?!? I don’t even know what to say about the photo above, so I’m just not going to say anything. Some things are better off unsaid. But, it looks like Mother O may have doled out a beating after all.

The final shocker of the night came at the end of the night with Jersey Boys beating out The Drowsy Chaperone for Best Musical. I don’t know too much about this Jersey nonsense, but I get another low rent musical for the masses vibe. Everyone knows the music, which is what makes it so popular – because none of the music is original to the production – and even further, the story is autobiographical, so it’s not original either. Bananas!

Oh Mother O – how I love thee…